Straw
by Charabok
Summary: ( Enid Blyton - Malory Towers ) Clarissa is Gwen's best friend - everyone knows that. Bill just can't help the way she feels about it, or the fact that Clarissa really does seem fond of Bill. femmeslash


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This story is set during _Upper Fourth at Malory Towers_, in the interval of time during which Bill has started to hang around Gwen and Clarissa and take Clarissa riding at every opportunity. All the characters and Malory Towers are the creations of Enid Blyton, not me. 

Dedicated to KannaOphelia, whose lovely Malory Towers femmeslash is archived here and who happens to play Clarissa in the MT rpg, and Katie, who plays Bill and makes such suggestive remarks about straw getting into Clarissa' hair. 

Oh, and Bill is a girl. Which means this is femmeslash. Not your cup of tea? Off you go, then. 

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Straw

**

"Bill – we're friends, aren't we?" 

Clarissa is used to wearing glasses, and but sometimes even the shielding circles of glass don't hide the expression in her limpid green eyes. She has this trick of tilting her chin up and her gaze down when she's feeling shy, so that her long lashes drop to cloak her eyes. In the dawn light, Bill can see clearly that though Clarissa's lashes often look dark, the tips have a reddish gleam to them, like a well-polished chestnut. Clarissa often puts her in mind of a little thoroughbred mare, fine-boned and quivering with good breeding, stronger than she looks. 

She takes her time about answering, not simply because she's distracted by Clarissa's half-inch long lashes. The question is difficult. _Friends_ can mean simply girls who like each other, or it can mean friends in the way Sally and Darrell and Belinda and Irene mean it, not one of your friends but _your friend._ Bill knows which she would like to be… but it's Clarissa's place to bring up Gwendoline Mary, not hers. 

Clarissa's head drops and her lashes fly up, and Bill looks into green eyes – swamp-green, she thinks, not having much of the poet about her – and because the eyes look rather more shining than usual, almost wet, she realises how rude she's being. "I'll always be your friend," she says, gruffly and with perfect truth. Even if Clarissa wants Gwen, Bill knows she will never want anyone but Clarissa. 

Clarissa's eyes are distinctly damp, now, and she glances away. Some of her hair has come loose from her braids, and the wind fans it out in a reddish halo. "I wasn't sure if you were just being kind, you see." She leans against the side of her horse, looking across the sea, away from Bill. 

Bill, who loves the school horses because they are horses and naturally own the key to her heart, is still painfully aware that someone with Clarissa's beautiful seat and light hands deserves something far better than a school nag with a mouth sawed to leather. She wonders if Clarissa would ever consent to ride Thunder with her… In front of her, tucked into her arms. She likes the thought, and it is with the feel of that thought in her head she says, "Perhaps the first time I asked you to ride. But not since then. Don't think I've been tagging along with you because I've developed a sudden passion for Gwendoline Mary." 

Clarissa winces a little at that, and Bill is sorry for mentioning Gwen. She only wanted to make her serious friend smile a little, not make her feel badly. After all, it doesn't matter if she has to put up with Gwen sometimes, when she has Clarissa to herself on their rides. She lets Thunder's reign slip from her hands – after all, Thunder can be trusted – and puts her hands on Clarissa's shoulders instead. 

"I like you awfully, more than anyone else in the world, you duffer. Surely you can tell." 

Clarissa turns at that, dropping her own reigns, and to Bill's surprise Clarissa clings tightly to her, head down on her shoulder and arms slipping under Bill's riding jacket to encircle her tightly. She can feel Clarissa's arms warm around her back under the jacket, the delicate frame pressed so hard against hers that her own breasts are pressed painfully tight. She awkwardly puts her arms around the other girl and cradles her gently, breathing in auburn hair and trying hard to control her breathing. She wonders vaguely if this is what Clarissa's groggy heart feels like, pounding and fluttering in her chest and throat. She can feel Clarissa's heart, too, and it's matching the wild jumps of her own. 

Soppy. She's being soppy. And it would be even more soppy to kiss Clarissa's hair, or the nape of her neck where the babyfluff hair curls between her long braids. What would Darrell think? 

What Darrell would think doesn't matter as much as Bill would expect it to. 

A warm push at her armpit. Bill startles like a horse, and Clarissa draws back, and they both laugh, even if the sound is slightly hysterical to Bill's ears. 

"Oh, Thunder feels left out! The darling! I'm sure your mistress still loves you, dear Thunder." Clarissa makes a great deal of the big black horse, and Bill hangs back, watching her beloved horse respond affectionately to the only other girl at school allowed to ride him, and thinks about the word Clarissa used. Love. 

It's possible, she realises, that the two beings she loves best in all the world are bonding right in front of her. The thought is quite disturbing. 

They concentrate on the ride back, and are rather silent as they take the horses back to the stables and groom them. It's still too early in the morning for anyone else to be around. 

Finally Bill can't bear it any longer and slips out of Thunder's stall. Clarissa is already waiting for her, standing and looking at her in a pathetic, half-scared way, just like she used to before they went riding that first time. 

"Clarissa," she begins, not sure of what she intends to say. When it comes to the point, she doesn't say anything, because somehow she's grabbed Clarissa and pulled her close again, and it's difficult to talk when your mouth is crushed against someone else's. 

She pulls back in panic, ready to bolt, but Clarissa's small, gloved hands come up to cup the size of her face and pull her back into the kiss. She's the one being kissed now, and Clarissa's lips are so shy and sweet that she's ashamed of how brutal she was a moment ago. She relaxes into the kiss, letting her lips play back, and Clarissa makes a muffled noise and opens her mouth. 

Clarissa's wire feels odd under Bill's tongue, but after all Bill has never kissed anyone before, and the wire doesn't feel as queer as the hot pulsating in the pit of her stomach. She feels wet and sticky down further, as well, and even though it doesn't feel exactly the same she's afraid she's started her courses early, but somehow she can't stop kissing Clarissa in order to do anything about it. When Clarissa's tongue touches her own, she convulses deep inside, and it's all she can do not to cry out. 

Nothing about it feels soppy at all. 

It's Clarissa who pulls away, her eyes very huge in the shadowy stable. "I feel funny," she says, confusedly. "Weak…" 

Concern breaks through Bill's sweeter feelings, and this time her arms are around Clarissa to support her. "Is it your heart, dear? Come sit down…" She half-carries Clarissa to a pile of sweet-smelling straw, the only available seat. She feels weak, as well, and it would be a relief to sit down if she wasn't so terribly scared for Clarissa. 

"I don't think so." Clarissa leans heavily against her. "It's pounding, not fluttering. Bill, I –" She turns, and they're kissing again before Bill is aware of either of them closing the distance between their mouths, kissing hungrily and thirstily. 

**tbc**


End file.
